Deterrence Poem by Satish Verma
Deterrence
This September. It is
going to be very quiet.
I am trying to caress
the mimosa, which
always said,
touch-me-not.
The spontaneous probe
will start the construct in love
of philosophy to mimic
the animal plus
the femineity.
A clock was moving
without hands. Time was up
but legs were amputated.
How will you walk
towards your truth?
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/6/2024 5:33:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
